Strange Boy

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Think I was the odd kid. Sixty years ago. Didn't feel too typical. Wondered about where among the stars did God exactly live. Imagined the big palace, a million tiny Christmas lights, clouds, fog. Believed my toys had their own lives, or a rock certainly knew it was in my closed fist. 

Everything alive, some things glow or throb. Moments come like a swoon of sunlight bringing a slow summer afternoon to a certain standstill- then, a quail dove breaks the trance, time restarts.

Very young, often had the weird sensation or imagining that my passing thoughts somehow escaped directly into the air, spiraling skyward in like a little wind funnel, then gone.

Often felt brief head flushes beginning with my ears, not a bad feeling really, as if something was recharging. Sometimes the reaction made me smile inside out for no reason. Just the odd kid.

This oddness all in tandom with more common behaviors, chewing on plants and grass, eating dirt, pulling off a twig of anis, licorice-flavored treat growing wild in bright green clumps in the vacant lots.

Enough recalling for now, fast-forward. What still glows for me today, anything?

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